


Life Is Interesting

by Kaerue



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Falling In Love, Flashbacks, M/M, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:42:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27870978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaerue/pseuds/Kaerue
Summary: Russia POV. A fun little story about why Russia is so cold. When America starts getting flirty what is one to do? Ignore his advances and run away! When China starts getting cozy and admitting his feelings what is one to do? Ignore his advances and run away! Sure, maybe Russia would like to feel love but something is in the way.
Relationships: America/Japan (Hetalia), America/Russia (Hetalia), Byzantine Empire/Russia (Hetalia), Canada/Prussia (Hetalia), China/Russia (Hetalia), Mongolia/Russia (Hetalia), Prussia/Russia (Hetalia)
Kudos: 25





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Tired

“Anya… are you even listening to me?” The sound of Yao’s voice pulls me out of my daydream.  
“Yes, my apologies,” I start, “I’m rather tired this evening.”  
This, of course, is an understatement. I feel stale. Dead. Decomposing in Yao’s beautiful home that is kept to a stifling eighty-five degrees just for me. I can see that he is sweating a bit. How selfless.  
“I understand you may be really stressed right now Anya, but I need your full attention on this.” He says with a concerned look on his face.  
“Of course Yao, you have my full attention.” I reassure, fighting the urge to yawn.  
“Okay, so, this problem with North Korea is really worrying me. . .” His voice drowns out as my eyes lose focus and everything gets a bit blurry. I’m too tired to even refocus my eyes. Too tired to listen to the words coming out of his mouth. North Korea, North Korea, I’m tired of talking about that wanna be superpower. But China is, who I consider, a friend and that bond or relationship or whatever implores me to sit here in his warm house and listen to him talk about the children he has lost. Even if I haven’t slept since 1917.  
“I can tell you’re not listening. You’re doing that thing you do where you sleep with your eyes open.” He says before clapping in front of my face, making me blink rapidly.  
“I. . . do not sleep with my eyes open.” I say, a bit surprised.  
“I’ve known you since the Yoke, don’t fight me on it.” He says sternly while picking up the teacups in front of me and swiftly walking toward the kitchen. I lean back a bit and scoff.  
“Don’t get that authoritative tone with me People’s Republic of China.” I joke. His laughter erupts from the kitchen making me smile. I can hear his steps approach the living room once more and I look over at him as he comes back into my view.  
“It has been awhile since I have had you over. I’ve always missed having you around.” He admits before taking the seat across from me again. I laugh ironically at his statement.  
“Miss me? Others would be so glad to be rid of me. I’m like a curse they say, draining the life out of everything I touch. . . reverse Midas.”  
“Hmm, not to me.” He says softly, looking at me with a look I know all too well. His dark eyes soften, head tilted slightly to the right, eyebrows lifted only slightly. It’s an affectionate look. Oh, how I used to receive it so many times in the early communist days. This is my que to leave.  
I stand and look at the clock on his wall.  
“I should really be leaving. Lord knows Belarus is running a muck trying to find out where I have gone.” I lie. Belarus grows more and more disinterested in being attached to my hip the more time passes. . . Of course I made some of the others be friends with her so she could socialize with other people who were not me. Other people I approved of, of course.  
He stands and walks with me to the door.  
“When will I see you again?” He asks. I turn around and he stops in his tracks just before me. He has to look up considerably and I can hardly keep the smirk off my face.  
“Whenever you want to.” I say while reaching forward and running a hand down his ponytail. Very soft and silky his hair is, I wish mine was so delicate. He places a hand over mine and I stiffen a bit. “Good night.” I say, turning back around and leaving through the front door. He tells me something about driving safe as I get into my car.  
Yes, the drive from China to Russia is ugh, why? -- do you hate yourself? And perhaps a degree of self loathing does exist within my mind but that’s not why I subject myself to this ungodly drive. I do it because I’m frightened of planes.  
Could one imagine? Walking into a metal room with wings and two engines, flying faster than God intended for humans to go and higher than Mt. Elbrus itself? Eck, no thank you. Not to mention the seats are for children I can never get comfortable and there is never enough leg room. But, of course, I am almost two meters (6’6”) tall. . . Either way, it is horrible and I refuse to ever be subjected to riding in an airplane ever ag--  
My train of thought is broken as my cellular device begins ringing. I sigh and answer the phone.  
“Hello?”  
“A mandatory meeting has been scheduled in Munich, Germany for the day after tomorrow. It will span three days and begin at eight in the morning each morning. You will receive a text containing the directions to the airport you will be leaving from. Your things will already be waiting for you.”  
The phone hangs up and I sigh. Oh how I love the way my government does that sometimes. 

\---- Page Break ----

I am hyper aware of all the humans staring at me as I walk toward the terminal. I don’t even know if I should call it staring, it's more like gawking. . . that one just took a picture of me. How lovely.  
No one dares talk to me though, they never do in the Chinese airports. Just stare, take pictures, gawk. I appreciate them trying to be subtle but I still notice. . .  
Better than American airports at least. There, they actually try to talk to me. I solve that by answering dryly in Russian and they immediately scamper off.  
I give my ticket to the woman standing before the gate and she smiles at me in a flirtatious manner. She tries to say something to me but I feign not being able to speak Mandarin and hurry off to find my seat in the plane.  
I sit down and groan. My knees are going to be rather painful after this trip, and to add to my dissatisfaction a man sits next to me blocking easy access to the aisle. He gets comfortable before really noticing me and seems taken aback at first. Judging by his looks, I'm going to guess he is German, I mean, the plane is flying to Munich.  
“Visiting China for some modeling?” He asks me in German. Eck, could we not.  
“Sorry, I do not speak German.” I say in Russian.  
“Oh, no problem, I asked if you were visiting China for some modeling.” He repeats in Russian. Fucking Europeans and there need to speak so many languages! This is a lot easier in America.  
“Uh, no, women can have more than modeling to visit another country.” I deadpan.  
“Please don’t misunderstand me, I am only taken aback by your beauty.”  
I sigh and look out of the window. To be or not to be rude, that is the question.  
“Are you from Russia?” He asks after the plane takes off. I turn to look at him again.  
“Where else would I be from?”  
“Well, I guess what I meant was where in Russia?”  
“Moscow.”  
“Were you born there?”  
I sigh. There is no way I’m going to get out of talking to this man unless I become very rude. . . I don’t want to be mean, not to this innocent human, so I guess I will humor him for the time being.  
“Actually no. I was born in Novgorod, moved to Moscow when I was a kid, then to Petersburg, then back to Moscow.” Might as well be truthful. Let’s play I totally haven’t been alive for over a thousand and one hundred years. See if he catches on.  
“Wow that’s a lot of moving. I went to Moscow State University for a while to study Russian. Visited Petersburg but I couldn’t say I’ve ever been to Novgorod.” He answers, piquing my interest.  
“Moscow State? Interesting. You are from Germany?”  
“Yes, I was born in East Berlin in 1992 so. . . Anyway, I’ve always had an interest in Russia and Russian culture since it affected my family so much.”  
Consider my mood soured. Though this human couldn’t even comprehend why, so I pretend it isn’t.  
“Ah. Makes sense.”  
“What about you?” He asks. “You look young enough to be finishing up a university degree.”  
“Yes, I went to MSU as well.” But that was in the 1700s and then again in the mid 1800s. I’ve been to others as well but I do not appear old enough to hold all of the degrees I have.  
“It’s the best university I’ve ever been to. . . My name is Hans, by the way.” He holds a hand out and I take it, participating in the interesting cultural norm of shaking a hand when you first meet someone.  
“Anya Alexandrovich.” I say. I don’t feel weird giving my real name to people, that’s what it is for. What would be weird is if I introduced myself as the Russian Federation. That would be strange.  
“Very regal name.” He comments. Well of course it is. Only if this guy knew who he was talking to.  
“Thank you.” I answer.  
“So, Anya Alexandrovich, do you have a partner?”  
Aaaaaaaaand here it is.  
“Yes, I am married.” I lie, slyly moving the ring on my right hand to my left.  
“Oh, lucky guy. Did you meet at MSU?”  
Just before saying yes I pause briefly before deciding not to lie entirely.  
“Actually no, I met him while studying abroad in Greece.” Or sieging Constantinople. . .  
“That’s rather romantic.” He comments. Well, if waging war is romantic, then it was. I was a young little empire, wanting to make a name for myself in the 900s, and what other way can a little unknown group of principalities make a name for themselves? Siege Constantinople that’s how.  
“It was. . . He was an older student and I was taken aback by his maturity.”  
I can remember it as if it were yesterday, walking into that Palace, meeting the Emperor of the Roman Empire and then meeting the one and only Eastern Roman Empire himself. He was so regal and stoic. I fell in love immediately.  
“Well, I wish you both a happy marriage.” He says, getting a bit disinterested. Good. I don’t feel like talking anymore, especially now that I have the Byzantine Empire on my mind. 

\---- Page Break ---- 

If spring had to be embodied by one day, one place, it would be right here right now. The sky is big and blue, decorated with a light splattering of large fluffy clouds moving lazily in the warm wind. There is a wide assortment of birds happily singing in the trees and dancing in the sky. A few squirrels chase each other through open plains of grass, catching the attention of a german shepherd. Plenty of humans are walking this way or that, talking to each other, looking at their phones, reading a book, having a picnic. A few bees hang around each garbage can and terrorize a few kids who scream and run away laughing. The freshly blooming flowers emit a sticky sweet scent that reminds me of mesquite. The sun is warm and everyone is in shorts except for me. Even the breeze is light and warm, elegantly taking loose flower petals and leaves with it, swirling around and settling in some unknown place. A group of kids are flying kites while their parents watch and talk amongst themselves. A young couple is laying down on a blanket over the grass, watching the lazy clouds move toward the unseen ocean.  
For a moment I want to join them. Laugh with the kids and run around, play with the dogs, sing with the birds, dance around the branches of the large trees like the squirrels. But I feel out of place, like a storm threatening to ruin the fun with rain, disaster, and loss. . . I wonder how many of them had been personally impacted by some of the things I had done a few decades ago.  
I look up at the hotel we are supposed to be staying at and sigh. It’s simple looking, makes up for its lack of height with width. . . Kind of like the personification of this country.  
I smile to myself as I walk toward the front desk to check in. The woman behind the desk is rather old, seventy or so I would guess, but is all done up. Full face of makeup, perfectly curled hair, long fake nails, perfect set of most likely fake teeth. She gives me my room key and I give a quick thank you before going up the stairs to the third floor.  
I walk down to my room and open the door, reveling in how bright and warm it is. I close the door and put my suitcase down. The window is large, letting sunlight shine directly onto the bed. I smile and immediately jump into it, moaning slightly at the warm feeling. I’m not going to get up for a while.  
A few moments pass like this before my cellular device beeps and vibrates, scaring me a little. I pull it out of my pocket and see that Yao has messaged me.  
Text Message:  
Yao: I heard that you are in Germany going to discuss with Europe and North America. Good luck :-)  
I smile at the message and type back ‘thank you’.  
I will admit that I am a bit confused by Yao’s recent affection, not that it's unwelcome, rather, I really don't know why he would want me of all people. Especially considering how our last attempted relationship turned out. . .  
Sure, Soviet me was a little aggressive but he was the main reason it didn’t work out. He told me I was a traitor to Communism and that I had lost my way and he never wanted to speak to me again. . . And that was before the sixties.  
A knock on the door pulls me out of my thoughts. I squint cautiously at it, wondering who it could possibly be? I decide to open the door anyway, I highly doubt this person, whoever it is, can really hurt me.  
My eyes are greeted with my favorite color once I open the door. It is one of the hotel staff holding a bouquet of sunflowers. She hands it to me calling it a delivery or something, I can’t speak German well, and leaves.  
Immensely confused, I place the flowers down on the dresser and stare at them. I’m happy, yes, they are my favorites, but the more pressing question of why is making me uneasy. Who would send Russia flowers? Who would send Russia sunflowers? What is this? The 1700s??  
I look around the flowers to see if there is any kind of note. I find one and open it up.  
Try not to get too upset - Anonymous  
The words are not only typed but in Russian. I have no idea who could have sent these. I lay back down on the bed and stare at the ceiling. Maybe Yao sent them. I mean, he did find out I was going to be in Germany, and he has been really affectionate with me lately.  
I’m not sure what to do about this.


	2. The Audacity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The audacity of America is just. . . Ugh.

Chapter 2: The Audacity

Sleep doesn't really like to come to me. I’ve tried chasing her down, trapping her, tricking her. Even waiting patiently for her to trust me and come to me. Yet, it never happens, and I usually end up just laying in bed for a couple of hours getting nowhere. Last night was no exception really; and to add icing to this already disgusting cake, I didn't bring any makeup with me. So, these dark purple bags I'm sporting under my eyes will be seen and most likely commented on by others. . . and by others I mean America.   
It’s still rather dark outside, so I turn my head to look at the digital clock on the nightstand. 3am. I groan and sit up. Maybe I should go out for a while instead of tossing and turning in bed.   
I grab a light jacket and slip it on while looking for the pack of cigarettes I left laying around somewhere. After they are found I make my way down the stairs and out through the hotel lobby. There is a little sidewalk trail that wraps around the hotel, leading to the pool area which has seats and a large plain of grass.   
Much like the park goers I saw yesterday, I sit down in the grass and look up at the sky. There is too much light pollution to really see the stars but it’s calming nonetheless. My lighter takes a while to light my first cigarette and I roll my eyes. I’m going to have to buy a new one soon.   
As I take the first drag I lay back in the grass.   
“Yeah no, it’s okay really. It doesn’t bother me, I was up anyway.”   
I sit up abruptly at the sound of someone else’s voice. If I’m not mistaken, it kind of sounded like America. . . oh boy.   
I quickly stand up and rush over to the side of the building, leaning against the wall. Maybe he won’t notice me. Maybe he’ll walk the other way.   
“Sure, I would be down for that. . . Though where I’m livin’ now has about a high of 38 (100) degrees, so if you want I could meet you somewhere else. . . Only a five hour drive. Ha, well to me that’s a short drive. . . . It’s okay really, I was up anyway.” His voice is getting closer and closer and I can hear his footsteps coming down the sidewalk. I panic as I figure out what I should do. Do I have enough time to run?   
“Well, alright. Have a good morning, Sakura.” He is just about to turn the corner as he hangs up the phone. He’ll be able to see me even if I turn and run. I decide that if I’m going to have to confront him might as well have fun with it. He turns the corner and I step out in front of him quickly in a way to scare him.   
“Boo.”   
“Ahh!! What the hell, Red? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” He freaks out, hand clutching his chest like he just might drop dead. I laugh and lean back on the wall.   
“You make it too easy. You scare like a horse.”   
“What are you even doing creeping around out here?” He asks.   
“For this.” I say while lighting another cigarette.   
“Smoking at three in the morning?”  
“I can ask you the same, little one. Why are you still up at this time of the night? Don’t you have a bedtime?” I tease.   
“Little one? I’m sure I am no longer an acceptable height nor appearance to be called that.” He says while looking out over the grass plain. He’s a rather self-conscious man, so if one brings up his looks in any way that can be taken poorly it can hurt his feelings.   
“Well, when compared to me, you are the little one. In age, experience, land, and height.” I end my statement by hovering my hand over the top of his head. He swats my hand away and sighs. I laugh to myself which causes him to give me a strange look.   
“You’re always doing that.” He comments.   
“Doing what?” I ask.   
“Laughing to yourself. It’s creepy. Like you’re plotting everyone’s demise.”   
I shrug before deciding to walk away. I’ll let him think that’s what goes on in my mind. When in reality I’m much sillier than that.  
“Okay, well that doesn’t help my theory.” He calls after me. I ignore him and continue walking back inside the building. He follows me, of course, and presses the up button for the elevator “Too good for the elevator?” He asks, noticing me walking toward the stairs. I only shrug once more before ascending them. I sigh once I notice we are on the same floor. I can’t get away from him can I?  
“The stairs are good for you anyway… I suggest you start taking them, you are looking a bit… well, fat.” I know this is not true, the man is quite far from being fat, but like I have mentioned before, it really bothers him. He smiles and looks down.   
“Well Anya at least I don’t look like a recovering meth addict.” I can’t let him win this one.   
“At least I’m in recovery, you still haven’t admitted your problem.” He narrows his eyes at me. Ha!  
“Good night, Red.” I smile.   
“Good night, comrade.” He rolls his eyes and enters his room. I take note that his room number is 320. And that I never found out why he was outside at three in the morning. 

\---- Page Break ----

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.   
Why do I even bother setting an alarm if I’m always already awake to hear it? I groan as I leave the bed to start getting dressed. I look through the clothes that were pre-packed for me and settle on a grey skirt that hugs my waist and flows out down to my knees, and a soft, yellow sweater shirt that is tucked in. I never wear heels, I’m much too tall for that, so grey flats it is. And of course, I would never go out in public without my nice, old, pretty-much-pink-now scarf.   
The meeting starts at eight, but I’m always incredibly early. I’m already sitting in the meeting room by seven. Good thing I brought a book with me.  
The door to the room opens and closes and I don’t look up from my reading. I hear a sigh then a voice that makes me smirk.   
“I always forget that you show up to these things so damn early.” I lazily look up from my book, making eye contact with his strange and exotic eyes. “What?” He asks.   
“Nothing. Just wondering why you and not your brother is here.” I ask him.   
“Germany has left this to me. He’s busy with other things, but he will be here for tomorrow’s meeting.”   
“Is Italy coming to this meeting?” I ask.  
“No, she ha--”  
“Yeah, he’s busy with other things.” I interrupt, causing Prussia to roll his eyes and shake his head.   
“You’re funny, you know that? I wish you’d be as nice to others as you are to me.” He says with a cute little smile.   
“You think I’m nice to you?”   
“Well, I know what you’re like at your worst so yes, the way you're treating me now is very nice and polite.”   
I just laugh. He seems to be confident today, must be the fact that he won’t be alone with me for much longer. I can always get him stuttering and nervous. Not to mention, he has this cute reaction to being scared shitless in which he just passes out. It’s quite the accomplishment to do that to him.   
“So, if you don’t mind me asking, what is this about? I was told quite little about this meeting. Am I in trouble?” I ask with a cutesy, baby voice.   
“What do you think?”   
I think yes I am in trouble, but that would incriminate me now would it…   
“I think that this will be like a UN meeting except it's not and I wasn’t told much about it because you don’t seem to like me very much.”   
“You got that right.”   
“What? That you don’t like me?” I feign shock and hurt.   
“No, that this is just like a UN meeting except it's not.”   
“Aww, so Prussia does like me?”  
“No, Prussia doesn’t like you… But, Gilbert can stand you when you are acting reasonable.” I laugh as the door opens and Canada walks in.   
“Oh, I wasn’t expecting people here already.” She says softly. Has everyone just forgotten my arrival habits?   
She walks over to me and sits next to me. Out of all the other European and American countries she is my favorite. Well, I mean, I like France too, but sometimes our relationship can be a little rocky.   
“Aww, you’re not going to sit by me?” Prussia says playfully to her.   
“You can always come over here if you want, Gilbert.” She suggests.   
I smirk at him, I’ve noticed that he’s been standing at the opposite side of the table, maybe he isn’t as confident as I thought he was… Germany isn’t here, so maybe he feels a little unsafe. I could laugh to myself but I don’t… I’m suddenly a little conscious about it, thanks, America. 

\---- Page Break ----

I close the door behind me quite harshly but I don’t storm away, no, I walk leisurely toward the stairs.   
“Very professional Russia to just walk out of a meeting like that.” I smirk and keep walking. I knew he was going to come after me. I start making my way up the stairs until about on the second floor a hand grabs my wrist. I look at America with a glare.   
“I’m sorry America that I don’t like to be in places where I am so obviously not welcomed. I do not appreciate being ganged up on by the ‘morality’ police of the world.” I pull my wrist away from him and ascend the last set of stairs quickly. He follows me.   
“Maybe if you wouldn’t meddle in the affairs of others we would try and have better relations with you.”   
“I don’t meddle in your affairs.” I say harshly.  
“You’re lying.” I stop walking down the hall and turn to face him.   
“You are the worst. You slander my name, my people, my government and country so effortlessly and without remorse. You are causing others to start handling relations with me with more caution, and, you have the audacity to follow me out here and tell me I’m the one who meddles in affairs.”   
“It’s not slander if it’s true.” My jaw tightens and it takes just about every ounce of modern day civility to make my hand stay by my side and not meet his face.  
“You have absolutely no proof.” I say tightly.   
“Oh? I don’t? Are you sure about that?”   
I bite the inside of my cheek and turn around, I need to get away from him or this won’t end well… And he knows that… That’s why he’s still following me.   
I get to my room and try to open the door quickly but he puts his hand on it, effectively shutting it.   
“Alfred are you sure you want to go down this road right now?” My voice is low and stern.   
“Hell yea I’m going there. It’s my job to make sure y--”  
“You have no such job that makes sure of anything! You are like a child, you are no one’s hero but your own--” I’m silenced by his lips.  
The kiss is far from gentle or soft, it is bruising and rough as if we are trying to fight each other. The elevator door opens and we both pull apart from the other very fast, fearful another nation may see us like this. To my relief it is just a few humans.  
He smiles at me as my gaze falls back to him.  
“Hope you liked the flowers.” He says and starts walking away.   
He sent them?. . . What the?


	3. Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anya is tired of the way she is treated by the European and American countries, one of them in particular, and decides to ditch the rest of the meetings. In doing so she is able to spend more time with China and comes to a shocking realization.

"Oh, well, you don’t have to go back today do you? You could just leave?” Yao suggests. I sigh and switch my cellular device to the other hand before answering.   
“I could but it wouldn’t look good, they might suspect that I’m guilty if I act like that.”  
“Are you?”  
“Am I?” He doesn’t answer that question. “Well, either way I’m going to stay. Just to see how everything pans out.”  
“Okay. . . be careful. They can be vicious.” He warns.  
“Oh trust me, I know.”   
“You said this ends tomorrow?”   
“Yes.”   
“Well, would you like to come to me rather than go home after?” Oh? He’s inviting me back to his house again? Hmm…  
“Umm, sure. That would be nice.”   
“Great, I’ll see you then.” We both exchange goodbyes before I hang up. And I’m smiling again. I swore my muscles forgot how to do that but here we are.  
It’s just something about being wanted. I honestly shouldn’t let myself get this excited about it. 

\---- Page Break ----

I should have taken Yao’s advice to skip out on this meeting. Oh, hindsight is crystal clear.   
“I will not discuss matters like this at a meeting like this. I was ill-informed about what this would be about, and I’m starting to think it was on purpose. I refuse to be bullied into an answer you want to hear from me.” I’m keeping my voice calm and cool, although I’m quite angry. I can’t believe the audacity of America sometimes! He is relentless! And! He is starting this in front of every country in this damn room.   
“We just want the truth, Russia, and you’ve been dancing around it. It really makes you seem guilty.”  
“We? You mean you. I don’t hear anyone else berating me with questions and demanding answers.”  
“Who else here believes they may be affected by Russian forces? Of any kind?” He asks looking around the room. He raises his hand and so does Italy, Spain, France, England, Ukraine, Norway, Denmark and even Canada. Well shit…   
“Speculation and slander.” I answer, although I’m sure most of these countries would side with America in a heartbeat.   
“Are you serious? You are still denying that you are guilty? What do you hope to achieve by doi--”  
“America.” We all look at Germany. “We are not here to yell at Russia as if she is a child. If you have something against her personally, it should be kept personal, not aired for everyone to hear.” America gives him a look and Germany just raises an eyebrow, causing America to sigh softly and drop the subject. “Alright well this has gone on long enough. I was hoping to keep all of this friendly and civil but apparently we can not even accomplish that, so you all may leave.” America gives him another look and Germany mouths ‘what’ at him. This is quite interesting, huh? A familiar vibrating on my side tells me I have a text message. I take out the cellular device and turn the screen on.   
Message  
C Pig: ‘what did you do to Germany? Brainwash him? Clone him? Blackmail him?’  
I look up to glare at America and notice I’m the only one left in the room,  
Hmm. . . When did that happen? I quickly stand and gather my ‘notes’ (which is really just me drawing) and head for the door, but I stop once I hear voices and lean against the inside of the wall -- listening. Yes, I eavesdrop a substantial amount, I will not feel shame for this, it gets me good intel.   
“I am not obligated to side with you every time you decide to pick a fight.” That’s Germany’s voice, he must be talking to America.   
“I understand that, but when it’s Russia? I really thought you’d be on my side since the whole you know Prussia thing-”  
“Don’t even go there, Alfred.”  
“See! You know I’m right. And I’m pretty sure she has been messing with you as well. Why would you back her up?”   
“Because, believe it or not, I wanted to keep things friendly. The last thing I want is tension and conflict. Yet you seem to thrive for it.”   
“I do not. I want to keep things friendly as well, but with her going around and trying to destabilize everyone it’s kind of hard to do that.”  
“Like I said, personal problems should be kept personal.”   
“It’s not personal.”  
“Yes it is,” Germany laughs a bit, “look in a mirror. You meddle in foreign affairs just as much as she does.”  
“You just admitted that you think she meddles in affairs.”   
“My, you sure do have selective hearing.”   
“Damn skippy, that’s what I get for being raised in Virginia.” He is just so full of himself.   
“Sure, if that’s what you must call it.” Germany sighs out.   
“And yes I engage in the affairs of others but with good cause.”  
“Seemingly good cause.” I’m sure this just made America’s eye twitch. Ha, he can’t stand being correctly criticized. Damn, I need some snacks… Dinner and a show.  
“Ouch. I didn’t hear you complaining in 19--’  
“Please for the love of God America stop bringing up my history.” Germany’s voice is starting to sound annoyed, which is interesting since he’s become so good at being monotone and emotionless.   
“You’re so sensitive.”   
“Rightfully so.” They are both silent for a moment before America speaks up again.   
“She do something to you?”   
“You are unbelievably paranoid. No, she has done nothing to me. Like I said, trying to keep tensions at a low.”  
“. . . Fine. I’ll be nice.”   
“You do have an obedient side after all.” Germany says with some teasing behind his voice.   
“Don’t get used to it.” America says playfully. I can’t see what’s happening, I just hear movement then someone walking away. Aww! I wanted a bigger fight than that.  
Now that would have been really interesting. Germany vs. America, which blond haired blue eyed white guy will win--   
“What are you still doing in here?” Germany asks me as he walks back into the meeting room.  
“It seemed like you were having quite the sensitive conversation. I didn’t want to ruin it with my presence.”   
“You mean you were listening?” I smirk and raise my hands.   
“Guilty as charged.” His face is a little unnervingly emotionless.  
“Nothing?” I ask. He’s just looking into my eyes completely straight-faced.   
“I don’t find spying funny.” Wow, he can not take a joke. Not that it surprises me.   
“Thank you. Not many people stand up to America, especially when it’s my honor at stake.” I manage. He should at least know I’m grateful. My eyebrows raise as he smiles a bit.   
“No problem.” He takes some papers off the table then leaves.   
Did he just smile? Wow, I haven’t seen him smile since 1989.

\---- Page Break ----

“Anya.” I sigh and keep walking. Whatever America has to say to me can wait. I just desperately want to pack and get out of here. I’m too curious as to what exactly Yao wants from me. “Russia, don’t you dare ignore me.” I put my hand on the handle to my room but alas he is here and puts a hand on it so I can’t open it, much like yesterday. I know exactly what he’s trying to do.   
“I know your games America. Move so I can leave.”   
“Make me.”   
“You are an arrogant child, you know that?”   
“Yes I do. I’m a child that really wants answers and you’re not partin’ with them.”   
“Okay fine. I’ll give you answers. I. Am. Not. Trying. To. Fight. With. You. Understand that?” He narrows his eyes.  
“Could’ve fooled me. To me it looks like you're asking for it.”   
“Asking for it?!” I take a breath to calm down. I really don’t want to get into a shouting match with him, not with all these innocent humans walking around. I push him away from the door and enter my room but he follows me and closes the door.   
“No, no, no, no, no, I’m not doing this America. Get out.” Winter is getting really pissed.   
“Doing what? Letting me annoy you so much that you accidently tell me the truth and what you’re planning?” It happened one time. One time!! And now he thinks I’m prone to it. He takes a couple steps towards me and I can feel the back of my knees hit the bed. Oh shit.   
“America, I suggest you leave right now.”   
“Or what?” His voice is deep and soft as he says this which causes some tingles to run through my body. Damn him. He’s close to me now, looking up at me only slightly.   
“Or we’ll do something we will both regret.” I whisper this. It’s true and needed to be said.   
“I’m not one for self-control.” He answers, putting his hands on my arms and pushing me back. He’s straddling me before I can really try and fight him off, his hands are wrapped around my thin wrists, holding them above my head.   
“I know that, capitalist p--” He kisses me before I can call him that name that he hates so much. This kiss is just like the one before, except I’m losing at the battle. And he knows it, which is why I can feel him smirking. I try to struggle a little bit but my arms are weak. Truthfully, I haven’t done anything like this in awhile, and it’s made me quite sensitive. He pulls away and wraps only one hand around my wrists, the other pulls gently at my scarf.   
“Don’t you dare.” He smiles and takes it off completely, tossing it off the bed.   
“I know that this will give me the answers I want.”   
Oh my, oh goodness, I can’t let him do this. I raise my knee up, hitting him in between the legs, causing him to falter enough for me to switch our positions. Ha! Win for women!   
“You shouldn’t threaten others with torture like that. Especially when it’s much too easy to do it to you.” His eyes widen as I pull his hair.   
“What do you want?” He asks, wrapping his hand around my wrist loosely.   
“Hmmm, only for you to apologize for the way you’ve treated me today and yesterday.” He doesn’t answer so I pull his hair again.   
“Ahh! Okay, okay… I’m sorry for being an ass to you, please…”   
“Please what?”   
“Stop pulling my hair.”   
“Okay.” I smile and let go of his hair then get off him, beginning to pack.   
“W-what? You’re just going to leave me like this?”  
“You brought it on yourself, jumping me like that. I am not in the mood for having sex with you.” He sighs and looks up at the ceiling… Aww, he looks so defeated lying there… He must not be used to being told no.   
I finish packing and he’s still lying on the bed.   
“I’m leaving now so… You should probably do the same.” I suggest.   
“Why are you leaving? We have one more meeting don’t we?”  
“One more day to stay and be tormented by you? No thank you.” I leave the room, it’s not my problem.   
“I think you’re scared.” I’m not taking the bait, not this time. I walk down the stairs and I sigh happily once I’m outside of the hotel and into a car that will take me to the airport. Oh sweet bliss.  
I’m actually quite proud of myself for being able to pull out of his game. I hate the way he gets to me sometimes.

\---- Page Break ----  
“Interesting. . . I would have thought Germany would have let him keep pestering you like that. Especially considering your history with him.” I’ve just been telling Yao what had happened during my time in Munich. He seems thoroughly entertained.   
“My thoughts exactly, but I guess not.” My side vibrates and I take the device out and turn the screen on.   
Message  
C Pig: I’m not really used to being turned down, especially by you. Is this some sort of new tactic you’re using?   
I could laugh. I could honestly laugh. Of course he’s not used to being turned down. I hit the reply button and send him this message.   
‘Yes. The new tactic is called: I Don’t Want To Catch Something From The World Slut. I think it is working nicely.’   
I look back up at Yao who nervously looks away, blushing only a little. Why is he so nervous all of a sudden? I couldn’t honestly be making him feel this way. Something else must be bothering him, it must be.   
“Well anyway, I’m glad you are back here. It must be much better than going to those meetings.” He manages.   
“I’m glad as well. It’s always so warm in your house.”   
“I like it that way.” He says with a little smile. I feel inclined to return the gesture before being distracted by the cellular device once more.   
Message  
C Pig: That’s a compliment, since you think I can easily get that much if I wanted.   
I roll my eyes and reply.   
‘I don’t think. I know. I know that’s how you ‘help’ others, yes? Make them really like you, then you sleep with them for awhile and then leave, making them want more of you until your capitalism and dumb democracy has infiltrated the place.’   
I look back up but Yao is gone… I look around the small living room confused until I hear the kitchen sink turn on. I can’t believe I didn’t notice him get up. I stand up and make my way into the kitchen to inquire about what he is doing.  
“Oh sorry, I just wanted to make sure these dishes were put away before I made dinner.” He tells me once he notices I have entered the kitchen.   
“No problem.” He smiles at me then continues putting dishes away. My side vibrates again.   
Message  
C Pig: Dumb democracy? I’m not solely a democracy, a direct democracy is tyrannical. I thought you knew me better than this.   
‘Oh excuse me, dumb democratic republic’ I reply.   
“I hope you’ll stay for dinner. I don’t usually get many guests.” Yao’s voice pulls me out of my little discussion with America.   
“Of course I’ll stay if you want.”   
Message  
C Pig: Okay, I’ll remember that miss constitutional republic. You’ll always be a commie at heart huh?  
‘Of course America, if that’s what you want.’

\---- Page Break ----  
Dinner at Yao’s house. I’ve missed this.  
Everything is almost like old times, like a routine. We talk for a while, eat, then talk some more before one of us gets too tired to carry a decent conversation. At that point he’ll offer me the guest bedroom and I’ll accept, much too exhausted to attempt the trip home let alone anywhere else. In the morning he’ll make something extremely lovely and we will talk some more before I feel I’ve stayed much too long and make the journey home. Like clockwork, each and every time. For now, we are still at the nightly conversation point.   
“Just one time, one failure, it’s all I need.” I joke.   
“Come now Anya, America has failed many times before and still does.”   
“Well when you put it that way everyone does, but I want something big. . . I mean, I don’t wish ill for his people just him. As a person.”   
Yao smiles and reaches for the teacup before him and takes a few sips.   
“Isn’t he afraid of the dark?” I almost choke on my own tea before laughing.   
“He’s afraid of the dark?”   
“Yeah, I swore I heard England talking about it with France.”   
“There is no way! We were in the trenches together, that man is not afraid of anything.”   
Yao just shrugs before laughing along with me at the absurdity of the conversation. As our elation softens into a smooth contentedness, he gives me this look that makes me shift a bit. The distance between us isn’t that great and he takes advantage of that fact, leaning forward and placing his lips on mine.   
I’m not surprised, honestly. I figured he’d try something like this sooner or later, though it does kind of throw a wrench into our normal routine of hanging out. Letting him kiss me isn’t too bad either, it fills my stomach with warmth and makes my heart beat faster. He’s putting so much into this, like it’ll be the last thing he’ll ever do and it reminds me of someone else who used to kiss me like that. It reminds me of thick, almost black, wavy hair, tanned skin, dark eyes, deep soft voice speaking to me in Greek. It reminds me of salty air blowing in from the Mediterreanian, light pouring in through stained glass, humid nights entangled in silk sheets. I pull away, much too quickly to be a natural break to the kiss. He furrows his eyebrows, concerned.   
“Are you okay?” He asks me softly. Before I can even stop myself, or really comprehend what I was doing, I answer him in Greek. He puts the back of his hand on my forehead. “Have you forgotten what time you are in?”   
“No, sorry I. . . was just thinking about the language then spoke in it.”   
He frowns a little and sits back in his chair.  
“I thought you would have forgotten that language.” He sounds disappointed.   
“How could I forget it?”   
“Because you don’t speak it with anyone. . .Do you?”   
“. . . I mean. . .”   
“Do you even speak to Greece?”  
“No.” I look down.   
“Do you still. . . think about him?” I look right into Yao’s eyes and tighten my jaw. Of course I do.   
“What do you think?” I stand up, I don’t want to feel bad about this.   
“Anya.” I roll my eyes and walk toward his front door. He quickly grabs my wrist. “Don’t you remember why we couldn’t work the last time we tried?” I turn around and he’s looking up at me in a way that almost makes me sad. Almost.   
“Because I was much more open-minded then you and you hated me for it.”   
“No, It was be--- well, I mean that was part of it but no. . . It was because I realized you could never love me the way I did and do love you.”   
“You shouldn’t want love from me, I’m incapable.”   
“You are perfectly capable… Just not when you’re in love with someone else.”   
“. . . In love with someone else? What makes you think I’m in love with someone else?”  
“You’re still in love with the Byzantine Empire.” I take a step away from him and he takes a step toward me. “Anya, I know that you really loved hi--”  
“How dare you speak as if you know. You know nothing of the relationship between me and the- the - Him.” I quickly turn around so he doesn’t see my eyes welling. Oh, damn him.  
I feel his hand on my arm but I open the front door and walk out. It is pouring out here. Lovely. . . how romantic.   
“Anya, please don’t walk away, I didn’t mean to offend you, I just really care for you.” I don’t even give him the time of day. I don’t answer him, I don’t even look back at him, I just keep walking. To where? I don’t know, since he was the one who picked me up from the airport and all. The rain begins to chill me to the bone as I hear him call after me but all I can think about is the damned Byzan--- him. . .


	4. The Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It has been three weeks since Anya left Yao's house in the rain. Things aren't going to well for her as she wallows in the past. . . Things get worse (better?) once the special red phone begins to ring.

-3 weeks later-

45 missed calls.   
34 voicemails.  
56 unread messages.  
115 E-mails.  
This is what happens when I shut myself in. . .  
I slowly sit up for the first time in, well, a while. Stretching my limbs and back fill my bedroom with loud cracking sounds and a long groan as the tightness of my muscles shoot pain all around my body. I stand up from my bed and stumble a bit, but get the hang of walking and wander into the bathroom, looking at my disheveled appearance in the mirror.  
Why can’t I just move on from the past? Why must I become so upset over it? Even hundreds of years later?  
I close my eyes and let my mind float back to the Byzantine Empire, that Yao so graciously reminded me of. Or Theo. That’s what I called him.   
I remember desperately trying to learn Greek just so I could speak with him better. I laugh a bit to myself, America can go pound sand, Theo always thought it was cute when I laughed to myself.  
Our relationship was bitter at first, small little battles with ships on beaches. Yet, soon after I had won the battles and demanded tribute from Constantinople I began to fall in love with him and his people, his culture, his language, and his religion. The best piece of advice to follow as a nation is never fall in love with anyone because it will be used against you. . . And it will destroy you. Like it did and still does to me. . . even five hundred and sixty years later.   
I slowly remove my scarf and sigh heavily. This is something I rarely do but I’m reminiscing, might as well look at the one remaining thing I have from my love for Theo. This big, nasty, dark scar across the front of my neck. I can almost feel the pain of that much too dull knife cutting into me as I run my fingers across it. I’ve been through some pretty horrible and brutal stuff but this injury remains one of my most painful by far.  
No, Theo did not do this to me, he could never hurt me. . . but my love for him did this to me. Jealousy did this to me. That’s why I left Yao’s house so quickly. . . Jealousy brings nothing good.  
A familiar, special ring from the private telephone I have in my office echoes through my house, causing me to gasp. I haven’t heard that ring in a while. Quickly, I run to my office and debate whether or not I should pick it up. This phone used to mean one of three things before the Soviet collapse. One, it could mean that Stalin wants to talk to me which could have been good or bad, mostly bad. Two, it could mean that America is calling me which was almost always bad. Or three, it could mean nuclear war so. . . I was always scared when this phone rang.   
So what the hell does it mean now?   
I slowly pick it up, staying silent for a while before giving a cautious hello.   
“Ha! I knew you’d pick this one up, Commie.” I roll my eyes. . . Option two.   
“America dear, you should know that calling me on this telephone is quite serious. . . I hope you don’t intend to meet with Stalin and I because he’s unavailable right now.”   
“Try unavailable forever, thank God.”   
“Hey, watch it.”   
“As much as I love verbally playing with you this call is pretty serious.”   
“Oh? What do you want?”  
“Well, since no one for some reason can get a hold of you,” I look at my cellular device that currently tells me I have hundreds of unread messages, “I decided to call you here because I knew you’d answer if you were alive. Anyway, we’re supposed to hang out.”   
“Excuse me, what?”   
“I’m sure you heard what I said.”   
“Is today the first of April where you are?”  
“. . . No. . . I’m being serious.”   
“Okay. . .who says?”   
“Says my boss and yours for some reason. Some God forsaken reason.”   
“Is this one of those, ‘Maybe if they get to know one another they will actually like each other’, plans?”   
“Yup.”   
“Do I have to?”  
“Yup.”   
Sigh. Why?


	5. Weird F****** Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think the chapter title just about sums it up.

“Wow!! You’re so tall!!”, “Do you play basketball?”, “Are you a model?”, “Do you play volleyball?”, “Your legs are longer than my whole body!!”, “You’re such a giraffe!”, “Is it hard to find clothes that fit?”, “I wish I was that tall!”, “Are your parents tall?”, “Poor thing! I’d die if I couldn’t wear heels!!”, “Is it hard to date?”, “Are you jealous of short girls?” ,“How’s the weather up there?” . . . I can not stand American airports.  
Thankfully not many of them know any other language other than English, so I can get away with a severely unfriendly remark in Russian that causes them to awkwardly excuse themselves from me with a humorous amount of speed. I sigh deeply as I watch the suitcases slowly go around the carousel, looking for a blue and red one with a tiny Russian flag on the zipper.   
“I hate this part, they all look like mine.” Some human says to me as he waits by my side.   
“Sorry, I don’t speak English.” I say in Russian.   
“Oh, no problem, I said I hate this part. They all look like mine.” He says in Russian, causing my mouth to hang open. How many times am I going to run into this problem?!? “You seem surprised I can speak Russian.” He laughs.   
“I am, not many people in the States can.”   
“Yeah, that’s true. It was my grandmother's first language so I learned it to be able to communicate with her better when she fell ill and I had to care for her.”  
“That’s awfully kind of you.”   
“Eh, I just hope someone would be willing to do it for me when I get older. . . I’m Alyosha by the way.”   
“Anya Alexandrovich.” I say while shaking his hand.   
“So, what brings you to America?”   
“Work, unfortunately. I do not care much for traveling.”   
“I hear you on that. I actually live in Wisconsin but I’m here for business as well. . . Oh, there it is.” He walks over to the carousel and grabs a black suitcase with a small blue tag on the handle. “Anyway, it was nice to meet you Anya.”   
“It was nice to meet you as well.” I say before he walks away. . . Well that wasn’t too bad. Nice kid.   
Eventually my suitcase comes around and I take it off the thing and set it down. Unfortunately I end up waiting almost an hour before finding out America will not be picking me up from the airport, and sent some random man to do it instead. It wouldn’t have bothered me so much if the man didn’t speak with such a heavy accent, making it impossible for me to understand him. Not to mention he seems unnerved by me. Doubly unfortunately we eventually pull up to a large skyscraper and I sigh at the universe’s cruelty. I hate tall buildings.   
“We are here. He should be in the lobby.” The driver says but I didn’t catch any of it. I assume he said something along the lines of ‘arrived’ and I get out of the car. I spot America almost immediately after I walk into the lobby.  
“Oh, hey sorry I couldn’t pick you up. I was busy.” He says before taking my suitcase from me. I open my mouth to protest but ultimately allow him to take it.   
“It’s fine.”   
He gives me a small smile before gesturing for me to follow him. I notice most people that we pass are staring at me like I’m some sort of Frankenstein creation, which honestly makes me uncomfortable. We stop in front of a row of four elevators. America presses the button to summon one.   
“Umm, I’ll take the stairs.” I say and turn to try and find them. He takes my wrist and pulls me back.   
“Hell no, it’s on the 27th floor! I’m not even sure if you could climb that many at once.” I sigh. I think he’s doing this on purpose. The elevator makes a beep sound and opens. He walks in and turns towards me. I just stand in place. I really don’t want to get into that metal trap of death. The doors begin to close and America sighs, putting his hand in front of the door to stop it.   
“Anya, stop being a child, get in.” It takes me a few moments but I manage to put one foot in front of the other until I’m in the thing. He presses the button marked ‘27’ and the doors close. It jolts at first then starts to ascend. I hold onto the railing on the walls and take a deep breath. This is such a weird feeling.   
“Really? Scared of elevators?”   
“They just make me wary is all.” The elevator stops on the fifteenth floor and lets two more people in. It jolts again and I swear we are all going to die. It’s going to snap, and we will all fall twenty floors to our dooms. I was doing well too, keeping alive. The last time I died was 1991, I was hoping to keep the record going.   
We stop again at the twenty-first floor and those two humans walk out.  
“What? Commie engineering give you bad experiences with elevators?” We finally arrive on the 27th floor. I don’t answer him. 

\--- Page Break ---

The view is incredible once the nauseating feeling of being up so high passes. A window has completely taken the place of a wall in the living room, stretching from the floor directly up to the ceiling. Philadelphia’s skyline is gorgeous at night, but I’ll never tell that to him, just as he refuses to admit how impressive the subway system is in Moscow. I know it amazed him but he was much too prideful to accept its superiority to anything he has.  
“Nice, huh?” America asks while standing next to me.  
“It’s okay.”   
“You’ve been staring out the window for like twenty minutes. I’d say you think it’s more than okay.”   
I look at him and he has this grin I wish I could force off his face but alas, I cannot think of a snide comment that would do the trick. The phone begins to ring off in the kitchen and he excuses himself to go answer it. I turn back toward the window to keep admiring the city.  
“Hello?. . . You’ve got to be kidding me. . . Well, I’m in Pennsylvania, so I-. . . I mean I could but I’m entertaining. . .” He falls quiet for a few moments before switching to Spanish. Unfortunately I do not understand the language so I’m not sure what the rest of his phone conversation was about. My interest is thoroughly piqued.   
“Lucky you,” he says while hanging up the phone, “we get to go to your favorite state.”  
“Excuse me, what? We are leaving?”   
“Yup!”   
“But. . . we. . . I just got here.”   
“Well, I’m just about everywhere these days so I guess you get to see what it’s like to be me. Come on.” I sigh heavily as I watch him begin to move about the apartment, packing up a bag.   
How strange is all of this? Why am I even here? I could be back in Novgorod relaxing in the library next to the fireplace. Or I could be in Moscow if I wanted the city vibe. Maybe I could be in Petersburg sitting at a café near the water, or perhaps I could take a quiet journey toward the Urals. What the hell am I doing in Pennsyl-fucking-vania watching America pack a bag so we can head to some mystery state for some secret reason? I do not think I’ve ever been in Pennsylvania before, maybe I wanted to explore the city. Perhaps I thought taking a quick drive over to Virginia would have been fun, I’ve been there before.   
“Where are we going?” I ask. He looks up at me and flashes a smile.   
“Some place you’ll love.”  
I groan and roll my eyes.   
By the time he finishes packing and we have made our way down to the parking garage the sun has long left the sky. I feel tiredness begin to creep up on me as we approach an old Ford Expedition.  
“I wasn’t expecting you to have this kind of car.” I comment as he opens the trunk and puts both of our bags in. Personally, I have an old Ford truck myself sitting in front of my house in Novgorod. It’s a good vehicle, I’ve had it since 1968.   
“What did you expect me to have?”   
“I don’t know, something small, red and sportsy.”   
“Small? I don’t care for small cars. If you haven’t noticed I’m only like three inches shorter than you. . . and anyway, I do have ‘sportsy’ cars, just not here.” 

\--- Page Break ---

“Anya, wake up, we’re here.” I wake up with a bit of a start, stretching my arms. I did not mean to fall asleep in front of him but all this traveling has really worn me down. He gets out of the car and walks toward the trunk and I take a few moments to look at our surroundings, expecting to see a house. Extremely unfortunately I see a small private airport.   
“What are we doing here?” I ask, getting out of the car.   
“Flying, what does it look like we are doing here?”   
“Absolutely not, I’m not getting into one of these little planes, especially if you are flying it.” I protest. He closes the trunk and gives me a blank look.   
“Honestly? Are you that afraid of flying?”   
“. . . No, I just.” Welp, he got me there.   
“Russia, I’ve been flying since the 1920s, my plane will be the safest one you will ever set foot in.” I’m surprised. I expected him to make fun of me, not try to comfort me. Might I ask once more what the hell is going on here? Is this some sort of secret plan to. . . I don’t know something not good for sure.   
“Fine, alright, let's just get this over with.” He smiles and I resist the urge to roll my eyes. I’m not really sure where my fear of flying comes from. It never used to bother me really but all of a sudden after the eighties I couldn’t stand it anymore. Now I get nervous, my heart races, my palms turn clammy, my breathing gets shallow, my lips and hands start to tingle. It's all bad news. I know anxiety when I feel it but why?   
The plane is much too small for my liking. He carries the bags into the metal contraption of death and practically has to pull me into the thing. He tells me I can pick from one of the four seats available in the back but ultimately I decide to sit up front with him because I do not want to be alone. Even if he is insufferable.   
“Aww, miss me that much?” I give him a look and he laughs more.   
“So, where exactly are we going?” I do not like that I’ve had to ask this more than once.   
“I already told you. Your favorite state.”   
The plane begins to move and I attempt to swallow down my anxiety. It’ll be okay, I’ll be fine, the flight can’t possibly be that long.   
“I don’t have a favorite state,” I manage, hoping that conversation will take my mind off our impending doom, “I’ve only been to four how could I have a favorite?”  
“Well. . . I’m calling this one your favorite.” I keep my eyes on him rather than looking forward out of the window. My stomach is getting that weird feeling it does when I’m in ascending planes, or elevators, or looking down from a high place, or falling. . . all terrible things. He smiles a bit. “What? You’re making me feel weird looking at me like that.” I roll my eyes and, against my better judgement, look forward. . . oh. . . I guess it’s not so bad.  
“You still haven’t told me the state we are going to.” I say once I’ve gotten used to looking out of the window.  
“Guess.”   
“I’m not guessing.”  
“Guess.”   
“You’re such a child.”   
“Yeah, I know, so guess.” I sigh and, for the millionth time, roll my eyes.   
“Fine. . . umm. . .Texas?”   
“Ha, no.”   
“. . .Florida?”   
“You wish.” He says with a smirk.   
“Eww.”   
“Oh my goodness, it’s just a peninsula, get over it.”   
“Sure it is. . .Washington?”  
“No.”   
“Virginia?”  
“We would have just drove if it was Virginia.”  
“Can I get a hint?”   
“It’s on the western half.” Oh yay, the states I know the least.   
“Umm. . . Wyoming?” That’s such a weird name to say, he laughs at my accent.   
“No, but closer I guess.” Close?. . .   
“Utah?”   
“No, but getting warmer.”   
“California?” I’ve been to California before, but way, way, way, before it was California.   
“Nope, but super close.”   
“Mexico? Or, New Mexico?”   
“No. You are literally hopping around the right one.”   
“I have no idea, America.”   
“It’s very warm, has one of the seven wonders in the world in it. . .Some people think it means arid zone.”   
“Arizona?”   
“Yup.”   
“It doesn’t mean arid zone?”   
“Nope. It means land of little springs.”   
“Interesting I guess. . . why do you think it will be my favorite?”  
“You’ll see.”   
I get so damn tired of him sometimes. But I would be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy this.   
We stay silent for a while. My nerves slowly die down until finally I’m completely calm.   
“Have you ever flown a plane before?” He asks me.   
“No.”   
“Really? Dogfighting not for you?”   
“Absolutely not, I prefer to stay on the ground. Although I bet you like it.”   
“Like it? I loved it. . . Well, when my plane didn’t get destroyed while doing it.” He laughs a little.   
“Has it ever killed you?” I hear myself ask.  
“Yeah, a couple times. But it’s never made me not want to get into a plane again.”  
“A couple times? So you’re bad at it?” He laughs.  
“You wish! I was one of the best!. . . But umm, no, a couple times meaning flying in general has killed me like three times. Only one of them was because of any fighting.”   
“So, you’re just bad at flying?” He rolls his eyes but says nothing. “What happened?”   
“One time something was wrong with the fuel and I ran out and crashed, and then another time one of my engines blew up and I crashed. Oddly enough they were both in the 1950s. . .Someone messing with my planes.” He shoots me a suspicious look and I just shrug causing him to smile. “Okay now you have to tell me about a time you died.”   
“Uh, sure, which time?” Being alive for over one thousand and one hundred years has afforded me many chances to die, ironically.   
“How about the last time you did.”   
“It was boring, really. Cardiac arrest in my bed. Nothing much to it.”   
“Wow. . . I’ve never died so peacefully before.”   
“You think cardiac arrest is peaceful?”  
“You made it sound like you died peacefully.”   
I guess I kind of did die peacefully, desperate attempts to breath and suffocating aside. The thing that really set me at ease that December night in 1991 was my hope that I wouldn’t come back. . . As dark as that is it was true. I wanted to die and stay dead.  
“Well, I suppose. . . What about you? When was the last time you died?”   
“1967.” He looks at me and that’s when I realize I had killed him in 1967. Ha.   
“Hmm, sorry not sorry.”   
“I know you aren’t, Red.” I smile, I’m really not.   
“Well, that wasn’t peaceful for sure.” Truly, it wasn’t. Perhaps I do feel a bit bad about it. If I’m not mistaken it was in Southern Vietnam while the sun was setting. His plane was shot down and I thought he would have died on impact but when I was looking at the wreckage he was nowhere to be found. Searching around the site I noticed blood trailing off into the forest and I followed it until nightfall. That’s when I saw him. I knew he’d probably die if I let him be but where was the fun in that? I do not feel like recalling what I did to him so I won’t. It wasn’t pleasant.   
“No, it wasn’t. . . I’m not really used to dying.”   
“No one is.”   
Silence hangs between us for a while and I adjust my scarf a bit.  
“I’ve never seen you without that thing.”   
“What?”   
“That scarf you always wear. . .You always have it.”   
“So?”   
“Why? Is it to hide that sc--”   
“America, it’s because I like it.”   
“. . . So like do you ever wash it though? Cause like--”   
“Why are you so interested?”  
“Why are you so defensive?”   
“I’m not defensive just. . . annoyed.”   
“I call it defensive.” I sigh  
“Fine, yes I wear it because of the scar, and many other reasons I’m sure you could piece together.”   
“What happened?” I give him quite a rude look then turn away. I’m not trying to recall that memory. I might cry if I tell it. “Okay, okay, message received you don’t want to say. . .”   
He falls silent for a long time, giving me ample space to fall asleep and directly recall exactly how I got my scar.  
.  
“Where were you?” Subutai’s voice is soft but it makes me tense nonetheless. I pray he did not notice as I hear him walk up from behind me. I keep my eyes down at the water basin before me, my hands tight on the linen I was washing. “Anya,” He says while moving a few strands of hair away from my face, “look at me.”   
I peel my eyes away from the water and look up into his eyes. He looks nice today, I wonder if he had something important to do, but I’d never ask. Something about his aura tells me I’m in trouble and the last thing I should do right now is attempt small talk.   
“Where have you been?” He asks again.  
“I’ve been here.” He grips my jaw tightly and I stifle a gasp.   
“Do not lie to me, girl. Tell me where you went.”   
“I-I went to the market, I remembered that one of the merchants had fish and I know how much you liked it when I made it. . .” He lets go of my face and tightens his jaw.   
“That is not all you did, my sweet flower. I had you followed.” My blood runs cold and I feel the world stop moving. My hands begin to tremble and my eyes water against my will. “What have I told about going to Constantinople?”  
“I wasn’t in the city, I-” He slaps me and I fall to the ground.   
“You are a smart woman, Moscow. You know full and well why I have forbidden you to go into that city. Honestly, I wouldn’t care if you went to Constantinople, it is not the city I have something against. It is the man who represents it that I despise. And you were with him.”   
He grabs my arm and pulls me up, only to slam me against the wall, knocking the air out of me. “You are mine. Not his, not anyone else’s, mine. Look at all that I provide for you, the life I have given you, and you repay me with infidelity? Do you think I appreciate the thought of his hands on you?”   
“N-no.” Tears begin to leave my eyes and he wipes them away.   
“Come now, princess. All I ask for is your love. You cannot love me if you love him.” He runs his hand through my hair and casts his eyes down toward my shoulders. I notice his eyebrows furrow a bit and I finally realize my ultimate mistake. I’m wearing the necklace Theodorus gave me when I was still independent. Subutai has forbidden me to wear it but I love it so much and I wanted to wear it while I was seeing Theo. I should have never put it on.   
“How much do you love him?” He asks in a dark voice.   
“I. . .” The tears fall freely from my eyes as my body shakes. I’m not sure what answer I can give that would calm him down.   
“Enough to die for him?” He doesn’t give me enough time to answer. His hand comes up to my throat and tightens enough to stop my ability to breathe. I try pushing him away but he’s stronger, try anything to get his hand off of me but I grow weaker. My chest burns my vision blurs and time passes weirdly as I find myself lying on the floor. Panic begins to attack me all over again as he straddles me and holds my arms down.   
“No! Stop, please! Help-” He covers my mouth and I can hardly see him through all my tears.   
“Who do you think is going to hear you, hm?”  
His hand leaves my mouth and I begin to pray. If no one will help me perhaps God will. I hope He does. Subutai tries to take the necklace off but he can’t. It is fitted around my neck and he is too enraged to unclasp it. With his patience run out he grabs a knife from his belt and brings it up to my throat. I scream again and try desperately to fight him off but he’s much too strong.   
“You are mine, Anya. You are nobody else’s but mine. And I will mark you just how he has marked your heart.” Searing hot pain erupts from my neck as that much too dull blade tries to work it’s way through it. I scream but soon I can’t anymore. My body shakes violently and I’m choking. Choking on my own blood, choking on the knife, choking from his weight, choking on my love for Theo. Dying. The last words I hear are. . .   
“I love you.”   
.  
I gasp and my hand flies up to touch my neck. No knife.   
“Are you alright? Seem pretty distressed over there.” I jump and gasp at America’s voice and frantically look around. My mind has to slowly come back from the 1400s.“Well? You look a little pale.”   
“Why do you care?” My voice is a tad shaky but I try to sound sarcastic. Try to act like I didn’t just relive one of the most horrifying moments in my life.  
“I don’t but, if I have to like, land somewhere cause my passenger’s going to die on me, I’d like to know.”   
“I’m fine.” 

\--- Page Break ---

“I do like it.”   
“I knew you would.”   
We enter a very rustic looking one-story house. It’s actually quite modest, and is on a decent amount of land. Once inside I can’t help but smile at the way it’s furnished. It just seems so. . . Country.  
There are chicken-themed towels and curtains in the kitchen, along with crosses and a shelf filled with cook books. The living room is small, and is lightly decorated with a turquoise themed coffee table, a couch and a rocking chair that have heavy looking quilts on them, and a small television set. There is another room visible from the kitchen that is filled with books and movies. Down the hall it looks like there are three rooms.   
“Where did you say we were?”   
“Buckeye.”   
“Hm.” I muse. This place seems like it would be called Buckeye.   
“You can have the room that’s down the hall to the left. First door.” I nod and head toward the guest room. It is a very simple room as well, a dresser, a nightstand, a bookshelf, and a bed covered with a quilt. The window is large, allowing for plenty of moonlight to pour in onto the bed. A soft knock at the entrance makes me turn around.   
“Hey so, I know we just got here but I have some business I need to take care of. . .You won’t mind being alone here for awhile?”   
“You have to be somewhere at 1 in the morning?”  
“Unfortunately.”   
“. . . Well, I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”   
“Okay, awesome.” He smiles a bit then leaves.   
I wait until I hear the front door open and close before wandering around the house. As I look around the kitchen I’m reminded of the fact that I haven’t eaten in at least fourteen hours. Perhaps I should take a look at the kind of food he has here. I walk over to the pantry and open the door. Wow! He has a lot of food in here. Who even has ten boxes of different cereals in their pantry? Five boxes of Kraft macaroni and cheese, three boxes of poptarts, assorted pasta types, canned vegetables, peanut butter, four different kinds of bread, cake mix, popcorn, sugar, flour, olive oil, a bag of potatoes. . . That might do actually. I take one from out of the bag and wash it in the sink. Rummaging around through the cabinets allows me to find a small pot and I fill it with water and put it on the stove. As I wait for it to cook I accidentally fall asleep for a few minutes before opening my eyes again. Damnit. It’s probably done. I drain the pieces and put them into a bowl, mashing them up with a fork to my liking. What a weird fucking night.


	6. What Is Going On?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's hard to run away from America when you are in America. . .

I sit up quickly. The bowl I had from last night is still sitting in front of me, only half empty. The television is still on as well from when I turned it on last night. Some sort of animated show is on now, a blue cat and an orange fish by the look of it. Kind of cute. . . Most importantly, however, is the quilt on me. I know for a fact I did not grab this.

Slowly I stand up and stretch out a bit before walking down to the guest room to change my clothes and freshen up a bit. After I do so I walk into the kitchen where America is standing.

"Do you normally fall asleep on the floor with a bowl of potatoes?" He asks once he notices me.

"Oh, is that not how one falls asleep?" He laughs as I sit down at the island. "What time did you get back?"

"Around three." I look at the time above the stove, 8:17.

"Do you have any more business you need to do?"

"Nope. I had my schedule cleared."

"Aww, just for me?" I tease.

"Yup."

My cellular device vibrates and I look at it. Oh darn I must have forgotten to plug it in, it's only at ten percent.

Message:  
Yao: I haven't heard from you in a couple of weeks. Is everything alright? I didn't hurt you, did I?

I sigh and reply.

'I'm fine."

"So, I hope you like to eat breakfast." I look up at America.

"I normally don't eat it." He turns and gives me a weird look.

"How do you even live? Oh, that's right, you hardly eat."

"I do eat, just when compared to you, it seems like I eat nothing." He rolls his eyes.

Message:  
Yao: Okay. I'm really sorry if I did hurt you. I didn't mean to.

'I know you didn't. And I'm fine, no need to worry, alright?'

"Not texting anyone interesting I hope." I put the device away and give him a peculiar look.

"Why?"

"Just trying to gauge your status."

"My status?"

"Your relationship status." He clarifies.

". . . Why are you interested to know that?"

"Just curious. . . wondering how you would react if I tried to kiss you."

Am I still dreaming? There is no way I am awake, what did he just say to me?

"How'd I react? You would probably be sporting my hand print on your face."

"Hm," He says with a smile, "it never used to bother you."

"It always bothered me and ew. Why are you so desperate all of a sudden?"

"Because something I could have had whenever I wanted, suddenly, I can't have anymore."

"Oh, so I'm just a thing you use for sex?" He is not helping his case here, at all.

"I don't need to, there are plenty of other people I could get it from if I wanted."

"But you don't. . . So you like me, huh?" I feel a smile come onto my face as his drops.

"No, I don't like you."

"So, it's just a kink of yours to get off by the hands of the enemy?" His face is absolutely priceless.

"No, I do not have some weird kink for enemies."

"Oh really? I'm sure you've slept with every single person that was enemy number one either while you fought them or right after."

"That's not true, I've never slept with. . ." His sentence trails off as he attempts to find an example. Case and point. "Look, it's not a thing, okay?"

"Oh come on, you can't even find a counterexample, doesn't that make it true?"

"No, the correlation has nothing to do with a kink, it's all coincidence."

"So, England was just a coincidence? Germany? Japan? Me?"

". . . I plead the fifth."

"Uh-huh." I say with a hint of laughter. I'm thoroughly enjoying his flustered expression. This is much better than the conversation we were having before.

"I'll have you know, even though it is none of your business, I was still a virgin in 1776."

". . . Are you lying to me?"

"Why would I lie about that?"

"I don't know, I guess I never expected that from you. Especially since now you basically whore yourself out to anyone with oil." He scoffs and I hold back a laugh.

"The insults just come naturally for you, don't they?"

"You know me." We are silent for a while as he puts some dishes in the sink and wipes the counters down. "When did you lose your virginity?" I don't know why I asked this. I was thinking about it, then it just came out. Got to commit. He looks up at me.

"Why should I tell you?" I shrug.

"I'll tell you mine."

"No thanks, I don't want to hear some terrible, horror story."

"It is not a terrible horror story, it was absolutely consensual and beautiful." He laughs.

"Beautiful?"

"Yes." He laughs again.

"Fine, but you first." I sigh.

"It was a very long time ago, could have even been the late 900s honestly. I was quite fond of the Byzantine Empire and he was quite fond of me, and we decided to take our relationship further. We actually were together for quite some time, around five hundred years." He raises his eyebrows.

"That's longer than my life." I smile. I forget sometimes how young America actually is.

"It was very nice, but you know, he was killed so. . . Got to move on." I think of Yao when I say this. Got to move on.

"That must have sucked."

"It did." He puts some dishes away before turning to me again.

"I was feeling a little rebellious toward England and I really wanted to do something that'd piss him off, so. . ." He looks down, as if even after all this time he's still embarrassed about it, "Late one night while France was in North America for some diplomatic reason I tried to lose it to him but. . . He declined."

I laugh and he gives me a look.

"What? I'm sorry but it's funny, come on you have to see the humor in that."

"I guess it is kind of funny, but it just makes me cringe so much."

"Why did he turn you down?"

"He told me that I shouldn't use sex to hurt other people and that I should only do so when I was ready."

"Oh. That's actually very sweet of France to say." He does take romance rather seriously. "Wait, so when did you actually lose it?"

"During the Revolutionary war."

"To who?"

"I don't wanna say."

"Embarrassed?"

". . . Not really, just a little private."

"Was it France?" He smiles and shakes his head. "England?" He shakes his head again. "Canada?"

"Eww, she's like my sister." I shrug. Who else? I sure as hell know it wasn't me. It had to have been a European country, it just had to be. Why am I even curious about this?

"Alright well. It's a European country, yeah?"

"Yeah. . . Although I'm sure he'd kill me if I say."

"Oh so a he then?"

"You'll never guess so you should just drop it."

"Alright, okay. . . I will for now." He smiles.

\- Page Break -

Message:  
Yao: Hey, I got some news that you are in America. It didn't happen did it?

I put the fork I'm holding down so I can adequately hold this cellular device to reply.

'I hope you're not implying that I'm guilty of anything. And no, I was not caught doing anything.'

He can be so worried for me sometimes. I guess I would be too if the person I cared about was so. . . well, me. I have a plate of food in front of me but I've barely touched it. It's not like it tastes bad or anything I'm just not hungry. I look up across the table at America, who's already finished his food and is reading something.

Message:  
Yao: No, I'm not implying anything. It just worries me is all…

'Don't worry so much, you'll make yourself sick."

"Wanna watch a movie?" America casually asks me, not even looking up from his book.

"Depends."

"On what?"

"Which movie we would be watching." He closes his book and stands, frowning a bit at all the food still left on my plate. "I'm not very hungry."

"I've been with you for the past like 18 hours and the only thing I've seen you eat so far was mashed potatoes and a quarter of the sandwich in front of you. If you were human, you'd be passing out soon."

"Well I'm not human. . . and I've never been one for eating much." This is painfully true. I just do not have much of an appetite. It's been gone for a while and it hasn't come back.

He sighs and gestures for me to follow him. He walks into the room that's filled with books and movies before gesturing to the side with the movies.

"You can pick if you want." I slowly walk up to the shelf and start skimming through all the titles. Most of them are unfamiliar to me and I have a sneaking suspicion I will not enjoy most of them. Just before I commit to giving up and suggesting we do something else my eyes fall onto a movie case that catches my attention.

"This one." I say while handing it to him. He takes it and smiles.

"Spirit? You know this movie can get a little sad at times are you sure?"

"It seems interesting, I want to know what a movie that stars horses could be about." He shrugs and we walk over to the living room.

Message:  
Yao: I just got a text from England, he seems a little displeased with you. Are you sure you're okay?

I sigh and put the cellular device away.

\- Page Break -

He was right. The movie turned out to be terribly bitter sweet. Regretfully he had to hand me a box of tissues which does not normally happen to me when I watch movies, especially children's movies.

"I never knew you were so sensitive." He comments while credits roll up on the screen.

"I'm not. This is an anomaly, I think I'm going to have a stroke."

The way he smiles at me makes me feel weird and I take the chance to get up and leave the living room. I do not like that look he keeps giving me. . . What is going on?

My attention is caught by the sliding glass door that leads out to the backyard. What better way to avoid that affectionate smile of his than abandon him in the living room by going outside? As I step out I'm immediately greeted by at least one hundred degree heat. It takes a lot of willpower not to moan as the warmth pushes the chill from my body. What a wonderful place to live. I may even have to take my sweater off. Which I do.

The yard is mostly green grass but has a few trees coupled together almost midway through. I put my hair up into a bun as I walk over to one of the trees and lean against it. The mountains are gorgeous, surrounding the entire valley as far as the eye can see. Other people's yards have goats, chickens, dogs, and horses in them. No humans in sight.

"What are you doing out here?" America's voice spooks me a little, but I don't turn around.

"It's nice and warm out here."

"I told you, you'd like this state." I turn to face him.

"I kind of do, but only because of all the warmth and mountains."

"I didn't know you liked mountains."

"There are lots of things you don't know about me."

". . . I suppose so."

I turn back around to keep looking at the landscape before me. I hear him walking away and I smile to myself. Finally. Some peace and quiet. After a couple of moments I hear him walking back toward me, but I don't look at him. Which was a mistake I realize now, once cold water is dumped on me. I gasp and turn around to meet his laughing form. My eyes narrow at him and he drops the bucket, smile never leaving his face.

"You looked way too peaceful out here." His laughter makes me want to smile even though I so desperately wanted to be furious about this.

"You're asking for it." Not threatening enough, I'm smiling.

"Am I?" He quickly moves to the other side of the tree and I try to follow him but he keeps walking around the tree, so I can't get to him. Smirking, I abruptly change direction and I'm able to grab his arm and push him against the tree. He gasps and laughs.

"You're such a child."

"I know." He says before switching our positions and pressing me against the tree. He's so close our height difference is noticeable, I have to look down slightly. I weird energy passes between us as a breeze blows through and causes me to shiver.

"Cold?" His voice is low and soft.

"A little. You soaked me with water." My voice cracks and I want to do myself a favor and pass away. I'm not sure how much I like this scenario. He tilts his head up and brushes his lips against mine. "Don't you have neighbors?" This is the only excuse I can come up with to get him to stop. Unfortunately, I can not think very clearly with him this close to me. He lets out a soft laugh.

"No one is around, don't worry so much." My eyes widen a bit as he says those words. They sound so. . . familiar.

.

"No one is around, don't worry so much." I feel myself smile as I think of another excuse.

"What if Philippos tries to come and find me? What would he think of you then?" Theo smiles a bit.

"He's not and you know it. He doesn't normally watch you so closely when he knows you are with me."

"I'm not even supposed to be here. I'd get in a lot of trouble if Subutai knew I was in Constantinople." His smile falters a bit after I mention the Golden Horde by name, but he recovers quickly and brushes his lips against mine.

"You are technically not in Constantinople. The city gates are still about a mile away." He finally closes the gap between us by pressing his lips against mine. Those butterflies are back and my chest swells with joy. I live for these moments which sadly are becoming few and far between. I'm deathly scared of dying, or losing him or both. His capital grows weaker every year, I can see the tiredness in his eyes, the stiffness in his body. It's harder for him to keep up with the world, harder not to succumb to war, disease, famine, history. Coinciding with his steady decline is my own as I look toward my future and see nothing but the Golden Horde. Independence seems like some far off fever dream that I experienced only once, that had promise many decades ago. To me we are both dying, and at someone's whim whether it be Subutai's or the enemies that threaten his borders one of us may not exist in a few years time.

So I hold on to these moments. I sneak away and do this even though I will face punishment because it makes me free. To see him light up the way he does when his eyes fall to me is enough. He breaks the kiss and looks into my eyes.

"You know I love you right?"

"Of course I do."

"And that no matter what we will always be together."

"Yes."

"We will see each other on the other side of this. I promise you."

.

"Russia?. . . Anya?" I open my eyes and they meet America's blue ones. "You totally just spaced out there. You alright?" I blink a few times and look around, situating myself in the twenty-first century. I'm sitting at the base of the tree now and he is kneeling in front of me. Did I fall?

"Did I pass out or something?" I ask in a small voice while placing a hand on my cheek.

"Kind of seemed like it. Maybe you should eat something more than you have been."

I nod and he places a hand on my shoulder.

"Stay here and warm up. I'll bring you something."

I watch him walk back toward the house for a while before I turn my attention back to the amazing view before me. This is all rather foolish of me, and I know I shouldn't be so friendly toward him but he is confusing me. He's never been so kind to me in my life, what is he getting at? Maybe he's taking his boss's intentions with us spending time together too seriously. Maybe it really is a way to understand one another a little better. . . But I can't help but think it isn't so simple. This is America I am thinking about, nothing is ever so simple with him.

He returns with a bottle of water and a poptart and sits next to me. I open the bottle and take a few sips. Adding to my confusion was the flashback with Theodorus. Why did I think about that? Why has he been on my mind so much? Why does America sitting so close to me make me feel happy? . . . I'm going to stop thinking about this before I come to some unfortunate realization. I take a bite of the poptart and smile.

"This is pretty good." I say before taking another bite.

"I was hoping you would like it. I thought it might have been too sweet for you."

"Oh no, I have an amazing sweet tooth. Austria unlocked it when we were married."

"I forgot you were married to Austria," he says with laughter in his voice, "that sounds like a nightmare."

"It wasn't that bad. The worst part about it was dealing with Hungary, she never really liked me. . . and also the Revolution. . ." I take another bite to shut myself up. No opening up to America, bad.

We sit in silence for a while until I finish the poptart and the bottle of water. The sunset is absolutely gorgeous, like nothing I've ever seen from my house in Novgorod. Yet as it sets and the nightlife around us begins to liven up and add to the beautiful moment the temperature drops enough to make me cold.

"Are you cold?" There is that question again, asked with too much sincerity.

"Yes, I get cold quite easily." I admit. This is why China keeps his house so warm when I visit. I absolutely freeze at room temperature. As I'm lost in thought the unexpected happens.

He wraps an arm around me.

Excuse me?

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" His voice is teasing and I'm so confused on what to do I do nothing. He is incredibly warm though, chest quite firm. No, no, no, no, absolutely not, I am not thinking about America like that. What am I even doing here?

"It looks like you are wanting to be punched, or pushed away rather roughly." I tighten my jaw so I sound a bit more threatening but he doesn't move away.

"But if you did that you'd be cold and alone."

"Why do you care?"

"Why haven't you pushed me away yet?"

Touché. . . Maybe it's because I haven't been held like this in a while. A long while. Especially by someone who makes my heart flutter. Or, no, whatever, damnit.

"I'm too cold to do so."

"That's what I thought." Damn him I can't help but smile.

Only a few moments pass before he gently turns my face to face him and leans in but not all the way. My heart begins pounding in my chest as the air suspends around us. Why do I feel this way?

"Can I kiss you?"

No, you can not.

"Yes."

Damnit.

He closes the distance between us and everything I feared would happen happens. It isn't rough or painful like the last time we kissed out of hateful passion. It's just passion this time. Where is the hate? Where is my disdain for this man? I can not find it at the moment. All I feel is a warm pleasure that spreads throughout my body and makes me moan into the kiss.

He pushes me down onto the grass and I wrap my arms around him as the crickets begin to chirp around us. The way he kisses me practically steals all the strength in my body, exploring his mouth in a way I don't think I have before. My hands trace down his arms, feeling the muscle and definition, how does he not just laugh at me when I call him fat? He can't seriously think that he is. His left hand trails down my side and hip until it hooks underneath my knee and brings my leg up toward his waist. I can feel his excitement push into me and-

"Mmm, I have to check that." I say, breaking the kiss.

"Check what?" I sit up, causing him to get off of me and sit next to me again.

"This. Did you not hear it ring?" I say while pulling my cellular device out of my pocket.

Message:  
Official Message: WE NEED YOU HERE NOW! THIS IS ABSOLUTELY URGENT!

I furrow my eyebrows as a chill knocks into my body. What could possibly be going on now?

"America, I have to leave. Something has come up."

He tilts his head slightly to the side before his cellular device beeps as well. I watch him pull it out and look at it for a moment before his eyebrows furrow.

"I know." His voice doesn't have any playfulness to it anymore and puts me on edge. What does he know? What is happening? What did I do? Why do they know before I do? What thing did they catch me with- I mean I didn't do anything. I'm completely innocent.

"Know what?"

He shakes his head and looks out across the yard.

"What will it take for you to admit to the things you do?"

I'm taken aback for a few moments and he looks back to me.

"What are you talking about?" I ask as I watch him run a hand through his hair and sigh.

"What happened in England?"

"Nothing concerning me happened in England."

"Yeah?"

"Positive."

"Here." He says while handing me his cellular device. I look down at the news article he has up. Breaking news: Russian interference in England.

"This could easily be fake." I say while handing it back to him.

"Anya you can't be serious. There is undeniable proof-"

"You know what would be a better idea right now than chastising me about something I did not do? Leaving me the hell alone! I have done nothing to you Western idiots, you are not God's gift to the world!" I stand up and begin walking back toward the house but he stands and grabs my arm, turning me around. He shouldn't have done that. He should have just left me alone, did I or did I not just say it would be a better idea to leave me alone?

If my eyes could kill he would lay slain before me. A chill hits my body but it's different from something I'd get because of the cold outside. This is a freezing grip, one that drops not only my temperature but also the temperature of the air around me. I made a deal with Winter hundreds of years ago and this is part of it.

I was weak, young, scared, wandering the icy forest lost alone. The Golden Horde's hold on me was seemingly unending, I thought going out into the ice storm to freeze to death would be a better fate. A woman I saw in my dreams many times before approached me as I lay dying in the snow, promising me that everything was going to be alright if I just took her hand. She told me she could offer me protection, give me the power I needed to be free again, no one would ever dare face you. . . but there is a cost.

Whenever Winter is not protecting me against someone she turns to me instead, which is why I freeze everywhere I go. If I'm upset by something she'll make an appearance, turning everything around me cold and emitting such a grave and deadly aura that it sucks the life and happiness away from everything. Which is why America is looking at me like I'm the most frightening thing he's ever seen. My aura is not something to take lightly. . . I tried warning him.

He lets go of my arm and I make my way back to the house. I find my way back into the guest room and close the door before leaning against it and putting my face in my hands.

I hate doing that, I hate that it happens. The looks I get. . . the expression on his face. . .


	7. China

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enough about America! How about China? . . . Is it the same? Warning: Mentions of suicide and self-harm in this chapter

“I’m shocked.” I admit to Yao, leaning back on the couch he has in his living room.   
“They are just paranoid is all. I’m sure everything will work out-”  
“Twenty countries, China. Twenty of them expelled my diplomats in solidarity to England that does not sound like everything will work out.” I’m trying not to raise my voice, the last thing I want is Winter to rear her head toward innocent China. He frowns a bit while placing some tea on the coffee table. There is nothing he could say to me to make me feel better and I think he knows this. “. . . and America, as dramatic as he is, did the most.” I’m not sure how I feel about it. When I learned that he closed a consulate I was hurt. Hurt! Why? I don’t know. . .   
“So what are you going to do?” China asks.   
“The same damn thing. I’ll just dismiss them as well.”   
“Are you sure?”   
“Yes I’m sure! I wasn’t actually expecting them to do anything! I've invaded other countries and they turned a blind eye the entire time, but oh no, goodness forbid something happens to them.”   
“So you did do it?” I give him a look that immediately causes him to fall silent. Good. I get enough of this from the Western idiots, I do not want it from my friends.   
“Will you be okay?” He asks, standing behind me and placing his hands on my shoulders.   
“I’ll be fine.”   
He starts massaging the stressed out muscles around my shoulders and I couldn’t be more thankful. All the travelling I’ve been doing plus this has really taken a toll on me. I let out a soft hum of approval as he works out a particularly painful knot.   
“You have a lot of them.” He comments while working on another.   
“The stress of travel, unfortunately.”   
“What do you do to relieve yourself from this?”   
“. . . Why am I under the impression that copious amounts of alcohol is not the answer you’re looking for?”   
He laughs and gives my arm an affectionate squeeze.   
“I knew you were going to say something like that. . . I worry for you, all jokes aside.”   
“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”   
“I can’t help it, and you know it.”   
His hands are working absolute wonders on me and it makes me think about that night in Arizona. The way America made me feel, the way his hands felt on me, the way he kissed me. It was so different from how we normally do things. Brute strength and punches traded for gentle caresses, anger and hatred traded for amiable conversation. The way he kissed me. . .  
China’s hand comes too close to my neck and I pull it away from me before any damage can be done.   
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to do that, you have a knot at the base of your neck.”   
“I know, I can feel it.” I sigh out.   
“I understand if you want me to stop, but I could fix it for you.”   
I mean, what would be the harm? It would fix the pain I’ve been feeling and relieve my body in other ways. . . Sure, it could be enjoyable.   
“You might as well.” I say in Russian, because I think it sounds much sexier in that language than English. He lets out an approving sound before working on the last knot. The feeling of the knot being worked out coupled with his hands brushing against the side of my neck cause me to grip the arm of the couch.   
“Ah. . .” That was a very purposeful touch to my neck. So was that one. And that one. “Yao.” I sigh out while grabbing his hand. “I think it’s good.”   
He laughs a bit before walking around and looking at the tea. He opens his mouth, probably to say something about the tea, but I take his wrist and pull him over to me. Quickly he finds himself laying on the couch, straddled by me.   
“You did that on purpose.” I say in a dark voice. I’m not upset, he knows that, this is just the voice I use in this setting.   
“I’m sorry,” his voice is meek, eyes wide, “I was just trying to help you relax.” There is a faint smile underneath his feigned fear that almost makes me smile. He knows me too well.   
“You’ll help me relax alright.” I say while gently trailing my thumb down his lips.   
Maybe this won’t be so bad after all. . . Maybe if I gave us a try one more time it’d work out. Maybe this’ll stop this weird feeling I have about America. 

\--- Page Break ---

“Are you sure you don’t need anything else, sister? I can do anything you need me to do. I’ll do it! I won’t betray you like Ukraine!”   
“Nataliya, she did not betray me, she is just confused. . . and yes, I’m fine.”   
“She is on the bushy-browed freak’s side!! I’d never do that to you big sister, I’ll always be on your side.” She pulls me into a very tight hug and I sigh. I shouldn’t have answered the door. I shouldn’t have let her inside. It’s going to take her forever to leave.   
“O-okay Nat, you’re holding me too tight. . . Nat.” She lets go and looks up at me.   
“Sorry, I just never see you much anymore.” I smile and pat her head a couple times before turning and going into my kitchen. She follows me and sits at the table while I get a pot of water on the stove. “Big sister?”   
“Yes?” I don’t turn around to look at her.   
“Are you and China back together?” My eyebrows raise and I laugh a little. I turn to face her.   
“What makes you think that?”   
“Well, because every time I tried to come visit you, you haven’t been home. And the way you’re acting now, all relaxed and smiley tells me you just got laid.”   
“Nataliya!” I’m not shocked that she would say something like that, she always says stuff like that. I just wish she would keep it to herself.   
“What?! I’m right aren’t I?! So are you two back together or not?”   
“No, we are not back together.”   
“Good.” She says with a smirk. I smile a bit awkwardly before turning back to the stove. Here’s the plan, ignore the fact that she has feelings for me and the problem will go away. Good!   
She picks up a book and remains quiet enough for me to daydream. All this talk of China makes me reminisce about the first time I met him.  
.  
My ability to go outside has been taken away from me for almost three years. It has been just as long since I last saw or heard from Theodorus. My time is mostly spent doing house chores or staring at the cold, blank walls of the dank room Subutai moved me too after cutting my throat open. I wish I could go outside, feel the sun on my skin, breathe in the fresh air. . . but those are all privileges that I do not deserve, according to him at least. He has even forbidden me to paint, something I’ve found comfort in while under his empire. It’s like he is trying to rip away my sanity. . . Maybe I’ll use the cooking knife to slit my wrists, perhaps throw myself down a flight of stairs? Run myself through with Subutai’s own sword? None of these things would solve any of my problems, but it would for a day at least.   
Maybe I’ll dip my face into boiling water and disfigure it. . . It would just heal up, but at least for a few weeks he would find me not so appealing. Perhaps I’ll cut my hair? He loves to feel my hair, loves that it goes down to my hips. I’ll cut it short, shave it all off. See how he likes me then.   
Men shouting outside draw my attention to the door of my cell. I wonder what is going on? Before I can stand up from the small bed in the corner of the room the door swings open and Subutai throws a small girl onto the ground.   
“She doesn’t know any of the languages I speak to her. You teach her something.” He says, walking over to me and caressing my cheek before turning and leaving, slamming the door.   
Once he’s gone I rush over to the woman on the ground.   
“Are you okay?” I ask her in Subutai’s dialect. She looks up at me with wide-eyes.   
“What’s your name?” I ask her in Russian, still nothing.   
“What do you speak?” I ask her in Greek. Nothing. Damn.  
I’m trying to think of any other language I may know the basics for. She doesn’t look like she would know Latin. Maybe I should try?   
“W-what, umm, is your name?” She still doesn’t answer. Well, I guess that could be good, I hardly know Latin. She sits up and curls her knees into herself, just staring at me. I stare back, looking over her. She’s like me, that much I can tell, but who is lost on me. She is rather small, thin arms and legs with a round and youthful face. Her black hair rivals mine in length and covers her almost like a sheet. Those honey colored eyes make me smile a bit. She is beautiful, I can see why Subutai wanted her. I look down at her hands and notice they are cut up. I’m upset that he dared to use that dreaded whip on her, what could she have done to him? I get up and walk over to the laundry basin, getting a clean cloth and dipping it in the water. As I take her hands she tries to take them away but quickly stops when she notices I’m trying to help. While cleaning her hands she winces but doesn’t make a sound. I find some extra cloth and wrap them around her hands. Hopefully they heal well.   
We sit in the room in silence for a while before I try to see if I can get some information from her. I put my hand on my chest.   
“My name is Anya. What is yours?” I put my hand on hers. She doesn’t answer. I do the gesture again. “Anya.” But she still doesn’t say anything. Is she mute? I give up trying to talk to her.  
The following morning Subutai comes into our room and asks about the woman.   
“Has she learned anything? Have you?”   
“N-no. . .She seems mute.” He furrows his eyebrows and looks at her.   
“I’ll get her to speak.” He walks over to her and grabs her thin arm. She struggles a bit but he’s much more powerful and is able to drag her out of the room. I pray he doesn’t hurt her.   
It’s not until evening she is thrown back into my room. The door closes right behind her, he doesn’t even come in to say anything to me. He must be furious. I wonder if she really is mute.  
I rush over to her and inspect her. Her arms seem to have been whipped but that’s all I can see. I wonder if her back is the same way.   
I try to lift the long shirt she is wearing but she panics and smacks my hands away. Modest are we? I put my hands up and stop trying.  
In the middle of the night she wakes me up, scaring me. I sit up fast and look at her, confused. Is she hurt? Worried? Bored?   
“I-I’m not mute.” I gasp, that is definitely a man’s voice.   
“You speak Mongolian?” He nods. “And are a man.”   
“Yes, I am a man. . . Something the Golden Horde figured out and punished me for.” He says, looking at the brutal cuts on his arm.   
“I’m sorry.”   
“Thank you. . . My name is Yao, by the way.”   
I smile and so does he. I’m glad that I will not be so alone anymore.   
.  
I laugh to myself. He did pass for a pretty girl.  
“What are you laughing about big sister?”  
“Nothing, Nataliya.”


End file.
